


Whatever Happen To Being Best Friends?

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, I got inspired, M/M, but it'll work out in the end, everyone is a mess, idk - Freeform, sarcastic stiles 4 life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:47:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski use to be best friends. They use to be one and know each other like the back of they're hands. </p><p>One day, very suddenly, Scott stopped talking to him. He started dating Lydia, Stiles' crush. He's became a jock. He doesn't even acknowledge Stiles in the hallway.</p><p>So Stiles does't either.</p><p>Well, that's until Scott is having a break down and Stiles helps. But Scott doesn't get the whole, "Hey, we're not best friends," thing anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The End, Stiles Is A Good Person (Sometimes)

They use to be inseparable. They would play video games with each other almost every night when they’re twelve. They’d hang out at diners when they were thirteen. Stiles told Scott about how he might be in love with Lydia Martin, a secret genius, when they’re thirteen. Everything to know about each other is known. It’s like they are one.

And then it stops.

Four years later they don’t even acknowledge each other in the hallway. It’s been three years since they stopped talking. It’s like one day, it just came to a halt. Scott stopped talking to him, and when Stiles tried to, Scott ignored him. After a few months of trying to keep their friendship alive, Stiles stopped. There was no point in trying anymore. It was only him who texted Scott and invited him for movie nights. It was Stiles who still made crappy jokes and bought the snacks. It was Stiles who tried, fought tooth and nail. But in the end, it didn’t matter. One has to admit defeat sooner or later. Stiles just chose sooner.

He doesn’t regret it. It wasn’t doing anything for him, and his dad was getting worried. So Stiles moved on. He found other friends. Two who were older than him, but still, they were good. They would stay, they made him laugh. They were stable, and that’s what Stiles needed. Honestly, Derek could be a real grouch, but he tried. Allison was made out to be this tough badass, but she incredibly sweet when it was needed. Stiles, he was a fuck-up, but he was humorous and clever. So together, they made their own little group. A group where they weren’t judged (other than when Stiles shoved like 50,000 fries down his throat).

So why does he stop when he sees Scott Mccall having a breakdown in an English classroom? He should walk away. This wasn’t his mess to clean up, his trio had enough issues. But the way Scott is kneeling over, breaths heavy, Stiles knows he won’t be able to walk away. Especially when the thought pops into his mind that Scott has asthma. His mind is flooded with a bunch of curse words as he runs towards him, eyes scanning for a backpack.

He knows how this goes. Stiles opens a zipper and there the inhaler flies out. Throwing it to Scott, he is watching a bit afraid. He can’t think.When the inhaler hits the back of Scott, he turns slightly, and his features relax when he sees Stiles.

“You okay, kid? Do I need to call anyone? Your girlfriend?” Stiles is instantly crouching next to Scott, voice trying to be reassuring, but honestly he’s freaking out. He’s freaking out that he might watch somebody die. Scott might notice, but instead he tilts his head and squints.

“Girlfriend?”

Stiles stands up at this and starts pacing a bit, rolling his eyes. Oh man, Stiles thinks a little bitterly, he must’ve hit his head pretty damn hard.

“Yes, Scott, your girlfriend. You know, Lydia Martin?” Stiles says the words slowly, as if he is speaking to a small child, sarcasm only hinting in it a bit. He doesn’t look at the boy who is sitting on the ground, a face of dumbfounded on his face.

“What happen to your five year plan?” Scott asks, face scrunched up, confusion painting details onto his face.

“Well, she started dating my old best friend, so I thought I’d let it go.” His words are accompanied by an obnoxious snort. Stiles turns sharply on his heel, running a hand over his tired face. He looks at Scott as if he is stupid and slow, not intentionally of course. But Scott can’t help but feel hurt at the way Stiles speaks.

“Old best friend?” The face Scott makes, well it makes Stiles either want to punch him or apologize. He doesn’t know which. It’s confusion and hurt and it screams out desperateness. Scott starts  to scramble up, getting on his feet a little wobbly, deciding a chair might be better.

“Yeah, Scott, old best friend.” Is all he settles with saying. Stiles always hated silence, so he claps his hands together and regains his stuff, standing in the doorway. “Do you want me to call your mom?” He asks, realizing, hey, maybe he shouldn’t leave a disoriented kid alone. The words roll off his tongue so easily, as if his brain remembers how the curve of each word goes.

“Why aren’t we friends anymore?” Scott sounds vulnerable, maybe he is. Stiles doesn’t really know. After all, he doesn’t really know Scott anymore. So he tries to muster up something, but all he can come up with is a shrug.

“I don’t really know. You stopped talking to me, so I had to move on.” He says it with indifference, been Freshman year, the emotion would have been obvious. But you can’t compare things, time changes people.

“You’re my best friend though.” Scott is looking at him with some sort of plea, as if he is waiting for the punchline. As if his gut isn’t feeling like it’s the one getting punched.

“Do you want me to call or nah?” Stiles isn’t going to talk about it anymore, he refuses too. He’s done his good deed of the year, there’s no reason he should have to talk about getting dropped off like a five dollar whore.

“Can you just get me home? I’ll car her when I get there?” This causes a negative reaction from Stiles. His adam apple’s bob, fingers twitching with the strap of his bag. It’s nervousness tearing him apart. Scott feels guilty, eyes wide, mouth slacking. Scott never made Stiles look like that before. There’s a beat of silence.

“Yeah. I can do that. Can totally do that.”

 


	2. Ha, Okay, Reunions Are Sweet and All but Not Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott thinks of how things have changed, unable to understand how so. While Stiles is forced to see something he probably shouldn't have.

Stiles leans in the doorframe, waiting for Scott so stand up. His arms are crossed, fingers itching to check his phone or do anything; he looks nearly everywhere other than Scott. Which he should know is impossible because Scott is like the sun, and Stiles was that dumb kid who would stare at it. And apparently, Stiles is still the dumb kid who stares at him.

 _Maybe_ , he rationalizes, _It’s because it’s the Scott I knew. He’s like the boy who I grew up with, and before it all blows up again, I can get some, like, closure. This time I won’t be so shocked._

Scott, on the other hand, can’t grasp what’s going on. All he knows is that something is seriously wrong if Stiles and him aren’t friends anymore because he would rather have only Stiles than be surrounded by strangers who didn’t understand him so perfectly. Of course, he tries to understand. It’s such an unimaginable thought though. It’s like a bad dream, or maybe it’s like a crappy movie. When he glances at Stiles, it’s evident he isn’t the only one in a strange position. Stiles looks plain uncomfortable.

But now that he looks at him, he notices the difference. Stiles has longer hair, a lean muscle mass has settled in, his skin is tanner, and crow eyes are budding. Evidence that Stiles has been happy, and it’s just a reminder of how odd that is to Scott. Not that Stiles is happy, but that he wasn’t the one who made him happy anymore. It felt like the wind was knocked out of his gut.

Scott stands up, expecting legs to be shaky, but they aren’t. In fact, he feels stronger. Which- wait where’d all his hair go? It’s not floppy and settling into his line of sight. This jacket, is that leather? Well, that’s new. It’s like he isn’t even Scott.

“I know this has been really hard for you, but I have friends to meet.” Stiles finally says after watching Scott stand and inspect himself. Stiles might be lying, but to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like seeing Scott because it hurts more than he thought. Sure, he can feign indifference, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. How could it be? How could he ever be indifferent to Scott McCall?

“Who?” He asks, incredulously.

It seems so real when Stiles say that. Sure, hypothetically it was fine,  but he couldn’t- Stiles had never really gotten along with other kids. Sure, he wasn’t hated, but his blatant honesty and wicked sarcasm didn’t make him liked.

“Does it matter? I just was hoping I wouldn’t have to be late?” Stiles’ tone is sharp, uninviting to the conversation. With just enough sarcasm for it to still be Stiles.

“Would I know them?” Scott’s head tilts to the left ever so slightly, a gesture a confused child would make. It’s strange, and for a moment Stiles doesn’t see this badass who had conquered the school, but instead he sees the floppy haired loser. His floppy haired loser. Oh, if this wasn’t a romcom, Stiles didn’t know what this was.

“I don’t know,” Stiles throws out casually, squinting while shrugging his shoulders, “Maybe?”

“Stiles, c’mon man,” Scott is about to have a long plea, a long trail of words that might be able to convince Stiles.

“If I tell you, will you drop it?” Scott nods eagerly, like it’s the only thing he’s ever needed in his life. As if it will answer everything. So, Stiles sighs, lips dipping downward. “Okay, well, I met Derek in Freshman.” Stiles has to take a moment before thinking about it, it might’ve been at the beginning of Sophomore. “Pretty sure. He was in the library, and what can I say? I like my men how I like my coffee. Tall, dark, and mysterious.” Stiles lets out a laugh as he wiggles his eyebrows, voice getting a little suggestive.

“Allison was this new girl. Totally cool, wait out of everyones’ league. Only person cooler than her was, no surprise, Lydia. Anyway, we spoke. It was cool, and sometimes we get really drunk or hang out to go see movies or y’know talk and stuff.”

And there’s this ridiculous amount of protectiveness that fills Scott. It overflows his whole, making it spill out, eyes turning into a bright, luminous red. A growl escaping his throat, claws breaking into his own skin. Stiles jumps up, nodding.

“Okay, yep, totally calling Lydia.”

Stiles fumbles with his phone, unsure of what is happening, and he may or may not have pissed his pants. It’s debatable, but that doesn’t really matter at the moment. What does matter is Scott’s eyes just turned freaking red and wow, okay, no he does not need this. This is not his mess. After a second, his phone is dialing Lydia’s number. He chants a jumble of words, “pleasepickup, pleasepickup, idontwanttodie.”

Stiles has ran away because hell, no way is he going to die today. So he runs to the mens’ restroom, clutching the phone to his ear like it’s the only thing that can save him. Sure, maybe he shouldn’t have left Scott, but that doesn’t really pop into a seventeen year old boy’s mind when he might die. When his call is picked up.

“Lydia, there’s something going on with Scott and I- I just don’t.” It’s all rattling off his tongue, the words coming out the smoothest they ever have while talking to her.

“Stiles,” She cuts him off, holding authority in her smooth voice, “What are you talking about?” And Stiles is almost slamming his head into the bathroom stall, a tone of frustration almost taking over.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Stiles exclaims loudly into the phone, “His eyes are all red and _God_ \- there’s claws! _Claws_ , Lydia!”

“I’ll be there is a second, but I’m sure he won’t hurt you, okay? In fact, it’s probably already passed. So you’re good.” Lydia says this, but as she hangs up, she’s began to worry. Scott doesn’t transform at school. It’s just not something he does. Out of everyone, he’s had the best control, and if something happen to make that stop. Well, then, it can’t be good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I know it seems strange how Stiles is kind of this emotional ball who is still kind of cold. But I kind of always thought that it would be his defense. Is anyone hyped for Lyds? I am, oh man, I am.


	3. This Was Going To Be Sarcastic, But Feelings Have A Way Of Getting In The Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They look back, and it's nice.
> 
> Cue Lydia.

Stiles has never question Lydia before, but now he was a bit skeptical. No, scratch that, he was a shit ton skeptical. “Passed,” she had said. As if it was an allergic reaction to something, and to be frank, Stiles had never seen an allergic reaction quite like that. The deep breaths keep pouring out of his mouth, lungs desperate for air. Clumsily, his fingers unlock the stall.

He hesitates on walking out, but then goes with a sense of certainty. Only stopping to splash cold water on his face.  So, he walks, face a bit damp. Limbs long, and holy shit he should be an actor because he is freaking out on the inside but his steps are swift. Hell, his hands aren’t even shaking.

Scott has been standing in the same place, but it’s different than a few minutes ago. He’s calmed down. Now, he just looks like a lost child. Eyes focused on his fingertips, unable to believe what had just happen. Unable to look up, Stiles assumed he hadn’t heard Stiles walk in.

He had heard Stiles walk in though, actually he had heard Stiles the whole time. He’d heard the fear inside his best friend’s voice. The wavering, the cracking. He’d heard the hectic heartbeat and frantic breathing. The sound of his converse smacking onto tile. The sound of twitching fingers and watering being splashed. And because of this, Scott doesn’t look up. How could he? How could he when he knows he just caused this fear to fall onto Stiles?

“Hey, Scott, buddy. You alright?” Stiles has shifted his weight from one side to another, unsure what to do or what to say.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happen. I just-” Scott’s making a hand gesture, really just a jumble of long tan fingers that fall after a second or two. Because what did he just do? He can’t explain it, he doesn’t know what’s happening. “I don’t know.” He finished, lamely, his shoulders falling even deeper.

“Well, that makes two of us,” Stiles says in his casual tone, plopping into a squeaky chair. Putting his hands up on a wooden desk that’s positioned in front of him. “But, it’s cool. No need to apologize, Scotty. You didn’t, like, hurt me or anything. Just a bit of a scare. Which, I mean, I’m totally use to. You know me, adrenaline junkie.”

Scott snorts and Stiles gives a hint of a laugh at his own joke. They both know he’s rambling, but it’s nice. It helps make being there easier. It’s a nice distraction, like if they just joke about it, then it’ll just be a joke.

“You dragged me to the fair, and you made me ride every single ride there.” Scott adds, deciding to roll with this. This felt familiar. So he sat down in the nearest desk, which was just diagonal of the lanky teenager.

“It was fun, and you know it.” Stiles has fully relaxed now, leaning into his chair, rolling his eyes at the response. It was a fun time. They ate unhealthy food and rode everything that they could. They played games and attempted to hit on a girl or two.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Yeah.”

Scott sound airy when he says it, Stiles agrees with this hint of sadness in his voice.

That had been near the very end. When they were thirteen. Two young boys, both lanky. Stiles had bugged his dad to let them go. It was only a month until they started high school; they were responsible enough, he swore so. The Sheriff eventually allowed them to go, telling Stiles that he couldn’t eat sugar. Melissa dropped them off, giving Scott a few extra bucks. Stiles wore a plaid shirt, head freshly shaves, and a pair of raggedy jeans. Scott stood next to him, long sleeve grey shirt. His hair was curling at the edges.

The rest was history. In fact, Stiles had forced himself to forgot it. Until now, of course.

“You know, this is weird for me, right? I mean, we haven’t talked in three years. It’s not even the whole talking thing either, like dude. Physically. You don’t even look like Scott, really.”

Scott is about to open his mouth, but there’s this loud clicking of heels. Heels that are coming closer, and he hears them with such precision. Lydia walks into the room.

“Stiles, can I talk to you?” It’s the first words that come out of her mouth, her voice a little raspy. She use to remind Stiles of bubblegum, but now that they’re older he thinks she resembles a painting he once saw in a museum. Beautiful but not be touched by him. Not that it matters, he doesn’t think about her either anymore. Hasn’t since he was sixteen.

“Yep. Can do. Talk. Yeah.” He scrambles up, knocking his chair over, but not really caring about it. Instead he practically runs out into the hallways.

While he hasn’t thought of her, he does still love her. Lydia Martin. She was the first. It’s not like he is in love with her, but there is a part of him that will do whatever it is to make her safe or happy.

“Stiles, what happen? Why is he talking to you? Not to be rude or anything, but he really shouldn’t be.” Lydia asks, a hint of concern in her voice. Her pace of words is fast enough to show a need for answers but slow enough for him to understand.

“I don’t know. Trust me, this wasn’t my idea.” Stiles has put his hands up, a signal of surrendering.

“So what? He just started talking to you?” She asked in disbelief, eyes a little wide.

“What? No. No. I thought he was having an asthma attack, so I went to help. Turns out he lost his memory or something. I was just trying to help, and then something happen. Honestly, cross my heart, hope to die.”

“He what?” She shrieked, voice echoing, making his ears ring. “He lost his memory?” She continued, lowering her voice to a normal octave.

“I don’t know how far. He still think we’re best friends. Didn’t remember dating you. As far as I know, it’s probably a month or two into Freshman year.”

She’s pacing now, skirt fluttering around her, hair bouncing on her shoulder. The pale blue color of her nails are digging into the nape of her neck. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown. There are three thoughts running in her head. One, how is she going to make Scott understand? Two, how is she going to explain to the pack that their fearless Alpha has forgotten them? Three, the most loud thought, she is going to lose him. She is going to lose him to Stiles.

But she cannot let him know.

“So are you going to explain what the hell is going on with Scott or am I going have to take some wild shots in the dark?” This breaks her pace, makes her spin on her heels to look at Stiles, a face of uncertainty settling onto her features.

“I can’t tell you.” She replies after a second, pacing once more.

“I deserve to know.” Lydia laughs as if this is a joke.

“Why? Why do you deserve to know? Please, enlighten me, Stiles.” Stiles can tell he’s overstepped a boundary. There’s obvious hysteria trickling into her voice. He is afraid of breaking her, but he’s not willing to back down quite yet.

“I was here, and you weren’t.” And the guilt hits her.

“I can’t tell you, Stiles because it’s a rule. No one in the pack can tell you.”

**  
** _“Pack?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, SO THIS CHAPTER WAS HELL TO WRITE. and i hate it??? I know I made Lydia seem like this awful person, but I swear I'll help redeem that next chapter. 
> 
> Stile and Scott stop talking like halfway into Freshman Year, they're fourteen. So in the fic they are seventeen.


	4. Sometimes Loving Someone Is A Lot Like Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott regains him memory, and there's something he has to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott/Lydia moments, but in the long run, this is a Sciles fic.

“If you can’t tell him, then tell me.” Scott’s voice is steady, stern, as if had taken this position of authority many times before.

Neither of them had noticed that he’d walked up. Stiles is throwing a look at Scott, eyes wide, pleading for him to agree with him. Scott pretends that he doesn’t feel the bore of curious eyes. After all, he’d never been able to tell his best friend no, but the way Lydia looks at him with such concern, well he fears that the knowledge she holds is larger than both of them. That it’s not some medical issue, that it could run deeper than that. Lydia throws her arms up in an exasperated motion, already turning on her heel and walking away, assuming Scott will walk with her. Which, he does. Or he tries to. He takes a few steps before Stiles pull his wrist, not with a hint of aggression, but just to get his attention.

“You will tell me, right? I mean, c’mon, dude.” His fingers are radiating heat, all the way through the layer of clothes Scott is wearing.

“I’ll see.” Scott avoids making eye contact, pulling his arm away.

“Scott, that’s not good enough. You’ve got to promise me, man.” But Scott is walking away, and fast. Stiles stands there, shouting it down the hallway, cupping his mouth.

Lydia hasn’t looked over her shoulder, just continues to walk down the hallway, head held high. Taking a sharp turn, she walks into a biology classroom she had in her Freshman year. A calm, familiar place. It’s only then that she let’s herself take a breath. Scott can’t be a few seconds behind, and she needs to be confident. She needs to compose herself, make him understand. She won’t be able to do that if she’s a mess.

“Lydia, are you alright?” His voice is filled with concern, and he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to be comforting.

“I’m fine,” Her voice is weaker than she intended, but it’ll work none the less. Twisting around, she shrugs his hand off. “How are you? Are you hurt anywhere?” In those two seconds, she has turned into a doctor. Looking at him as if he is ill, checking for bumps. She even goes as far to cup his jaw and make jerky motions with his head. “There’s no bump anywhere, which is to be expected of course.”

“How come?” Scott’s head is still between her finger, her cherry nails digging into his skin, but not daring to break it.

“Sit down. This is going to be hard for you to accept, but everything I say is true. I would never lie to you, and I never will.” Tearing her hand from his tan flesh, she puts them behind her. As if fearing that she will do it again.

Scott sits on a black table, watching her with a sense of curiosity and a sense of fear. Lydia gives a smile, something he would’ve been able to recognize if it was yesterday. It would’ve been a comforting motion, an ‘it will be alright, Scott. I promise.’ Now though, Scott doesn’t get it, His stomach still churns, feet dangling a bit beneath him.

“You’re a werewolf. Well, not just any werewolf, the alpha. Which means you take care of a whole pack. You’ve got quite a few betas under your wing. You also patrol the area, keep Beacon Hills safe.” She doesn’t know what else to say, it’s like for the first time she’s stumped in front of him. The words usually flow so easily, but he’s lost and confused and not in love with her. Well, that’s not really different.

“Are you?”

“Me? No. This guy, Peter, he tried. But, I turned out to be a whole new level of supernatural. Banshee.”

It’s like she explaining this to a small child, and he can’t help but feel insulted. On the other hand, he also doesn’t get one bit of what she’s saying. Everything sounds like some crappy plot line for a television show, it doesn’t sound like his life. It doesn’t sound like him.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

There’s a beat; he doesn’t really know what he’s about to say next before he says it. But once the words escape his mouth, it makes sense.

“Why can’t I remember?” Lydia gives out a cynical laugh before sliding onto the desk, sitting next to Scott. Wrapping an arm around him, she puts her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. I don’t. But I have this theory on how to give you back your memories. It’s kind of a long shot.” He nods, their heads rubbing together, she takes this as a cue to go on. “I want to feed you a memory. Maybe if you get one, then it’ll all fall together.”

Before waiting for an answer, Lydia has her lips on his forehead, sweet and chaste and there is this overfilling warmth inside him. Love and affection and laughter. Wait, no, he hears laughter. He feels warmth on his back. Looking around, he spots himself. Attached to him is a dainty hand with pale blue nail polish. They’re outside, it’s warm and nice. Lydia is looking at him like he is the damn stars. She’s whispering something to him about wolfsbane, as if it was some joke. Scott is nodding, a grin on his features. It’s like his body is in auto-pilot. He can’t stop it.

“I love you, Scott McCall.” Her red hair is all flowy, making it appear as if she wearing a halo, pink lips forming this smile that he’d never seen before.

“I know you do.”

And then cut. It ends, he comes back to sitting in this classroom, a bunsen burner next to his hand. A concerned Lydia looking down at him.

“Lydia, you said you’d never lie to me. So I need to know, do you love me?” There’s a second, her eyes softening, fingers playing with themselves.

“I do.”

“Do I love you?”

“No.” She’s so quiet, eyes cast away from him. It’s one of the saddest things he’s heard. His own heart breaks and for a moment, he wishes he was in love with her.

“Then why are we together?” He asks incredulously.

“You can’t have the one you love, and I love you. It just- one of us should be happy.” Lydia has return to her position with her head on Scott’s shoulder, but this time her eyes are shut tightly. She feels as if her heart has been torn open, admitting it out loud hurt more than she would have thought. It hurt more than she ever thought it would.

“Who do I love?” And it hurts even more. It’s like the wound won’t stop bleeding, and she’s drowning in it.

“I think you already know that, Scott.” _Please don’t make me say it._

He closes his eyes and puts lowers his head so that they fit together. He closes his eyes, throws an arm over her, and tries not to think. Yeah, he knows who it is. He’s always known.

And it starts to happen. The memories trickle in, and he can’t open his eyes. It’s like they’re glued shot, and this immense pain comes in. There are warm spots, but the cold seem to outweigh them. They start slow, but then it feels like they’ve all fallen on him. All the suffering and smiles. Everything. And there is not a moment that he is not thinking of Stiles. He has this beautiful girl with him, a great family, but Stiles. What could keep him safe. What could keep him happy without Scott’s interference.

“Lyd, I’m so sorry,” Lydia’s eyes shoot open, but she decides that she doesn’t want to see what happens. Her eyelids flutter before closing again.

“So you remember? That’s good. It means my theory was accurate.” She tries to be nonchalant, as if everything will be better. They both know it won’t though. Sliding away, slow and steady enough that she doesn’t fall, he stands up.

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t thi-”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to pity me. I want you to be happy.” She stops, regaining composure, doing everything in her will not to look at him. “And he makes you happy. So, time for you to be a big boy. We’ve both pretended long enough. Go get the real thing.” Her lips curl into a smile, eyes opening.

“I love you, Scott McCall.”

“I know.”

And he’s gone, he’s running down the hall.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Please have a good day!!! Stay hydrated and eat good food. All that jazz. 
> 
> Also, I was wondering if anyone was thinking that unrequited!sciles might be nice? I'm debating between making it mutual. Honestly, I'm such a sucker for Scott being head over heels for Stiles.
> 
> I'd like to apologize right now for how terribly I write Lydia. I really make her seem too codependent. Gosh, I hate how I wrote her.
> 
> AND MY VULCAN MIND MELD THING IS ???? but this is fiction so i can do whatever with my life


	5. Did You Know That Nothing Really Works Out In The End? I Didn't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott tries to make Stiles understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of angst, but overall I think it has a pretty happy ending.

Stiles could hear the slamming of shoes against tile, but he will willed himself to keep texting idly on his phone. His hair resembled a bird nest, strands poking out of their usual place, effects of Stiles ruffling his own hair in a tone of distress. His lanky build created a long shadow as he leaned in the doorway. It was only when the thumping came to a stop, that Stiles allowed himself to look up, hiking an eyebrow up. It was a question, but Scott could not understand what it was.

And in that way, Stiles understood. Stiles understood that Scott had regained his memories, which caused his stomach to shift. He had just gotten the boy who he’d grown up with back, and he had been yanked from his hands quicker than he was there.

“So, Scott, is this a game show or are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” His tone was cold, harsh. Stiles’ gingerbread eyes seemed to have glazed over with a indifference after the words escaped his mouth. It was then that Scott understood, Stiles was putting his walls back up.  

“It’s a long story, Stiles. But everything I did- it was to keep you safe. You have to understand.” His voice was gentle, careful, a gesture of calming one down. And this. This made Stiles snap with all he had.

“Please, entertain me because I don’t understand. How can I? You, you, you can’t come back and expect for me to understand.” It was like the raging sea was stuck in his throat, an anger shining through his voice. It was in one these rare moments, Stiles’ face was livid. It made his features twist, matching the loudness of his voice.

Scott was looking at Stiles, hearing the loudness of his heartbeat. Stiles had grown into his skin, not that Scott had never noticed, but now he could look at him close. His cheekbones were exaggerated by the moles that sprinkled over, the button nose with a sharp edge. Eyes that were somewhere between a shade of fine whisky and woods in the night. His mouth was slightly agape, fitting perfectly above his soft jaw. The longs wisps of hair that had began to clung to forehead because of sweat. These features which had developed over the years, details which he was not there for. They amazed him. His sense of fashion had gotten better too. Well, both of theirs, he guessed. But Stiles, Stiles still kept that geekiness of him. Usually wearing hoodies and graphic t-shirts. Today he was wearing a red plaid button up over a Harry Potter shirt.

And Scott, he could stand there and look at Stiles for centuries, and think about all the things that had changed. And everything he thought was amazing.

“It was to keep you safe. You’re only human.” Was all Scott could say, a sigh tinging into his words.

“As opposed to what?”

“I can’t- I can’t tell you. If I could, I would.” In reaction, Stiles eyes rolled, crossing his arms over her chest.

“You know what, Scott? That doesn’t shock me. I wish it did. I wish I still had faith in you, but I don’t. Man, I thought it was us against the world. But it wasn’t. Wait, scratch that, it isn’t. So, don’t talk to me, okay? I’m good without you.” Stiles shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, grabbing his keys, turning on his feet. Scott couldn’t think. Not knowing what to say, so he let him take a few steps towards the door.

“Stiles, please listen! I’ll tell you. If that’s what you want, I can do that. Please, don’t leave.” Scott was jogging even though Stiles had only gotten ten paces away, but even this did not make Stiles turn. Only when he caught Stiles arm and turned him, was he able to make eye contact. “Give me a shot. We’re best friends.”

  
Stiles barked out a laugh, eyes not amused, but it was harsh and hysterical and filled up the empty hall. It made Scott cringe the way he was able to do it so heartlessly. “You really don’t get this whole, ‘we’re not best friends thing anymore,’ do you? I waited for an apology for three years, but I’m done now. I deserve better than some guy who screws me over and dates the girl I thought I was in love with.” Twisting his arm out of Scott’s grasp, he gets free, the rumble of a laugh still humming throughout him.

When you see someone you love be that bitter over you, it hurts. That should be said. It hurts more than one would imagine. It hurts in the way that it makes everything blur and all you can feel is a shattering. It makes the knees want to go out and the eyes want to close to avoid tears. It makes the heart go too fast and then too slow. It makes the tongue too fat in one’s mouth. It feels like shard of glass tearing into your skin. It’s an anxiety attack wrapped into doubt. It hurts.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Scott’s arm falls limply on his side, eyes still searching Stiles’. He didn’t know what he expected. For them to get a happy ending and ride into the sunset in Stiles’ jeep? For them to play cheesy mixtapes? For things to be normal again.

“Well, that’s a joke if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I’m being serious. There’s things here that would hurt you if you knew.” His weak voice seems to grow strength. He had to make Stiles’ understand, even if they didn’t get the happy ending, he couldn’t be hated by Stiles.

“So what?” Stiles eyes had soften from anger to bewildered, tilting his head ever so slightly. Stiles didn’t know why he wasn’t walking away. He’d meant every word he said, so why? Why was he staying here and listening to Scott? But, Stiles would have followed Scott to the end of the world.

“So what?” Scott repeated, the words ghosting out of his mouth. _So what?_ Scott looked at Stiles, eyes wide mouth slightly open, “What do you mean _‘so what?_ ’”

“I mean, Scott, dude, I would’ve done anything for you. I needed you. If that meant getting scratched up, that’s fine. If it meant the shit getting kicked out of me, it had been cool.”

“I couldn’t have done that to you.”

“So you what? Ditched me like a five dollar whore? Yeah, great idea, Scott.”

“It was better than seeing you dead. If you died, that blood was on my hands.”

A pause, a beat, a second. No snark, no sadistic laughs, no movements. Stopped breaths and only heart beats could be heard. Only the shuffling of Lydia down the hall.

“Stiles, I’m a werewolf. Now, don’t laugh, I’m serious. Supernatural stuff, the stuff in horror movies, they’re real. It’s real. And you, you’re just human. There’s a reason humans don’t survive in the films.” Scott slowly moved his arm to Stiles’ shoulder, to give him time to jerk away. Give him time to make some snarky comment and laugh, but neither came. Silence.

“You’re joking.” But there wasn’t any real doubt in it.

“I’m not.”

Stiles wasn’t going to forgive Scott, but there was one thing he knew for sure. Scott didn’t lie. Or, he wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that Scott couldn’t lie to him.

“Okay, but you didn’t have to protect me. You should’ve just told me.” They’ve both deflated a bit, Stiles’ chest starts to breath again. He’s calm.

“I don’t know if you knew this, Stiles,” There’s a shaky laugh, “but I was in love with you. It was bad, like, a thirteen year old crush. So, I did whatever I could to keep you safe. Which meant not telling you.”

“Stupid reason,” Stiles noted, silence falling on the two of us.

“Hey, Stiles. This is probably the worst timing ever, but I love you. You know that, right?” Scott didn’t flash a warm smile, it sounded like he was on his death sentence.

“Yeah, man, I love you too.” It was a natural reaction. Just something that escaped his mouth without thought.

“Not in the way that I love you.” And Scott was looking at his shoes as if they were fascinating and his hearing seemed to shut down because he didn’t want to hear what came next. He didn’t want to hear the train wreck.

Stiles is unsure what to do. He’s never been this position before, people don’t tell him that they love him. That they’re in love with him. And with all he has, he wants to make the sad face disappear off Scott's face because although he was just pissed, Scott was trying his best. But he wasn’t going to lie. Not to Scott.

“When I was fourteen, I loved you too. Sure wish I had made a move then.” Stiles’ reply was awkward as he rubbed at the back of his neck. This had to be a romcom.

“But you don’t now?”

“I don’t know you now. Maybe if I knew you.”

Stiles tries to make eye contact. He needs to look at Scott, send a million apologies. He wishes he could love Scott.

“Hey, Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we get to know each other?”

Stiles laughs, and Scott finally looks up. They make eye contact, and they both lose it. In the hallway, and this time the laugh isn’t cynical and empty. It’s real.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, but here me out.
> 
> I think Stiles will always have this weak spot because Scott. Scott was this major part of his life. He was there when his mom died.   
> And Scott is kind of this kid who is clumsy with words.  
> And Stiles is pissed understandably.
> 
> Also, isn't it crazy that this whole story takes place within, like, an hour?
> 
> Also, everyone should listen to http://8tracks.com/barnesbuckys/the-storm-never-came-or-it-never-was because it's what I've been listening to and has been very inspiring and yep! 
> 
> If you've stayed this far, thank you. I know they seem kind of OOC. I know it's not the best written. So, thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you if you've read this, I know it's not the best. Hoping to add a chapter by Tuesday.
> 
> Have a good day.


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